


Privacy Is Overrated

by piiri



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A smudge of angst, Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Because Daryl can't deal with feelings, Blow Jobs, Come as Lube, Dirty Talk, Hot Sauce for Walkers, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and Rick should have locked his Door, fuck my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piiri/pseuds/piiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl has this 'amazing' gift, walking in on people during their happy times. It just keeps happening, even in Alexandria where everyone has their own house.</p><p>And one sunny day he walks in on Rick. Maybe his gift is actually amazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Privacy Is Overrated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ricksbowlegs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricksbowlegs/gifts).



> This is for the amazing Ricksbowlegs. I just noticed that you have one gift. Just ONE. How is that possible? You deserve all them gifts man! 
> 
> FYI, English is not my native language. There will be so many mistakes, I just know it. If they're like really obvious, please tell me and I'll fix them.
> 
> (I'm soooooooooooooooo nervous, please be gentle!)
> 
> Enjoy^^

Daryl isn't sure how he always gets into this kind of shit, has absolutely no fucking clue why it's always him faced with... _this_. The first time it happend, and the memory is still so vivid as if it only were hours that passed and not decades, he was only tender eight years old.

Daryl remembers how he crept along the wooden floor, careful not to step onto the parts that groaned too loud under his weight. His mission had been the kitchen, because only one lumpy sandwich was not enough for lunch and dinner. And then he heared it. Muffled breathy moans. Daryl thought Merle was in pain, thought that maybe their asshole of a dad hit Merle a bit too hard before he took off to get drunk.

He dared himself to take a quick peek, choosing the exact moment Merle decided to finish his jerking off session with a loud grunt, spurting his seed all over his hand. And then the fucker wiped his hand on the fucking couch cushions, which explained the countless stains on the old, worn fabric. _Yuck_.

After that Daryl had a few more run ins with people doing _stuff_ and _things_. The apocalypse that said 'fuck you privacy' made him see more tits, pussies, dicks and dicks shoved inside pussies than he ever had to see in his former life.

He should be used to it by now, really. During their time in the prison it was like _Bam_! Rounding a corner, some of the Woodbury people moaning like pornstars. Visit to the watch tower, _Whoops_! Maggie and Glenn doing the deed. Entering the shower, _Hoppala_! Tyress, painting the walls white. Fuck, he even caught _Carl_ squeezing his sausage. Daryl made sure to add 'Kleenex' to their next supply run list. The weeks after the prison, after Terminus, after Grady, after Beth and Noah, no one seemed to be in the mood to do more than surviving, until they found Alexandria. Suddenly everyone was at it again like rabid bunnies.

Seriously, fuck his life.

Most of the time he just ignores the moans, the litany of whispered _fucks_ and _yeahs_ , the sound of skin gliding over skin. It makes him uncomfortable. They finally had some kind of privacy and he still walks in on people, getting eyefuls of stuff he never wanted to see. And now, when he actually gets an eyeful of something he wants to see, spend hours thinking about, jerked off to images of it...he kind of just stares, frozen in place.

He opened that fucking door to ask Rick to _maybe please_ join him on this supply run, because they grew apart the last few weeks, the sudden distance hurting Darly in places that only hurt when faced with loss. Some alone time could maybe salvage some of the damage caused by fucking cocktail parties.

So when the door reveals a naked and sweaty Rick writhing on his king-sized bed, knees bend and legs spread, his brain melts. Rick doesn't notice him, too absorbed in the movement of his long fingers in his ass. The view he gets is spectacular, thanks to the hand Rick has clenched around his thigh, opening his legs even more. Daryl can hear a wet squelch everytime Rick rams his fingers faster into his hole, lube slipping through his fingers. He starts to drool thinking about how fantastic Rick would look with his come running out of him. He also thinks he hears his dick whisper _yes please, I want in there now_.

That thought is quickly replaced by _oh shit_ when Daryl's brain catches up with the situation, closely followed by _oh hell_ _no_ as Rick lets go of his leg to rub at a nipple. Rick mewls, actually fucking mewls, and comes all over his belly and chest. Daryl groans, cock so hard it fucking aches. And then Rick's head turns and those glassy blue eyes blink, widen and stare.

Daryl, to his embarrassment, runs as fast as he can with a raging boner, not giving a flying fuck who he pushes aside to get as far away from Rick's room, his house, as possible. He runs straight to Aaron's home, almost kicks in the door and rushes past a startled Eric into their bathroom. He barley lets the door click shut, pants already open, his cock straining and leaking precome like a faucet. It only takes him three strokes and the image of Rick's stretched and lube wet rim and Daryl comes like a fucking teenager, splashing his release across his jeans and the fluffy purple rug beneath him. Fuck.

There is a quite knock on the door. "Daryl? Are you ok?" Aaron asks, voice laced with concern. No, seriously, _fuck his life._

The conversation that follows isn't half as awkward as he thought it would be, mainly because Aaron and Eric are both fucking saints, letting him word vomit about everything, from what he saw ten minutes ago to his weird attraction towards Rick, the constant need to be near him, the devastation he feels everytime he sees Rick, but Rick doesn't see him. When Aaron asks since when Darly has a crush on Rick and Daryl doesn't know, Eric reaches over and hugs him.

Now don't get him wrong, he likes Eric, but they never talked that much and the only times they touched were to shake hands. He must be in deep shit if Eric feels the need to comfort him. A glance to Aaron confirms his conclusion.

"Daryl. What you feel for Rick might be a bit more than just a mere crush." Eric says, sounding fucking sympathic and shit. Of course Daryl fucking Dixon fell head over heels in love with Rick motherfucking Grimes.

He stays with them until it's time for his run, Aaron volunteering to join him. He doesn't say it, but Daryl is partly grateful, partly annoyed. Aaron will probably force him to sort through his feelings and shit, encouraging him to make a move, blah blah blah. Maybe he can cover himself in some hot sauce and throw his body at a decent looking walker. That would definitely solve his problem. Do walkers even like hot sauce? Do they even taste the people they gnaw on? Being lost in his thoughts as he is, Daryl only notices Rick calling his name when the other man is almost there, just a few feet separating them. Aaron is already in the drivers seat, waiting for Daryl to get in.

"Daryl, wait!" Rick calls again, but Daryl jumps into the car so fast that Rick can only blink.

"Fuck! Drive!" he screeches. Aaron, bless his poor soul, says nothing and speeds away, leaving Rick standing there, looking like someone kicked him in the nuts. Instead of feeling relieved, Daryl feels like the biggest asshole on this walker infested planet.

Everything after that is terrible. Aaron doesn't just force him to talk about his feelings, he also makes sure Daryl feels even more bad about leaving Rick without an explanation after peeping in on him fingering himself. Tells him Eric would let him rot on the couch if he ever dared to do that. And he understands what Aaron tries to hammer into his thick skull, knows that the shit he did wasn't fair. Knows that Rick must feel violated and hurt, knows he must be really pissed at Daryl. But this is the reason Daryl choose to run, because he has no idea what to do when Rick tells him to fuck off, to leave him alone.

So yeah, everything the light touches is Daryl's kingdom of misery. It grows considerably in size when they come back from their three day supply run and everyone, including Glenn the softie, glare at him. He isn't joking, everyone has their death glare settled on him, even little Judith . Rick is nowhere to be seen. It's Michonne who pulls him aside, pushes him against a wall far away from the others and starts snarling.

"I don't know what the hell went down between you and Rick, I don't fucking care, but if you don't get your ass moving right fucking now and apologize, I will castrate you with your own fucking hunting knife. Did I make myself clear?" she growls, grabbing him by his shirt to draw him closer. She means every singel word she said, of that the hunter is sure.

"Crystal" he rasps, and Michonne lets go of him, takes two steps back and huffs. Her whole posture screams anger, frustration, paired with a tiny smudge of worry.

"That bad?" Daryl dares to ask, lifting his hand to nibble at his thumb, leaning heavily against the concrete behind him. The samurai snorts, shakes her head and levels him with an intense stare.

"You have no fucking idea" is all she says, wandering back to the group.

He makes his way over to Rick's house, slower than a walker during the winter. Wonders what Rick did to annoy everyone around him while he was gone, sulking in the woods. He is just so afraid that Rick's eyes will be filled with hatred instead of kindness when he sees him. But when he actually stands in front of Rick, face to face, eye to eye, the only thing he sees is relief and a great deal of exhaustion.

"You're a fucking melodramatic idiot, you know that Dixon?" is the first thing Rick says and then he puts his hands around Daryl's neck and kisses the ever loving fuck out of him. And Daryl has no time to process this, because Rick pushes his tongue down Daryl's throat, drags him through the door into the house, pressing their bodies together from knees to chest.

"Such a fucking idiot. You could've said something you know?" the older man whispers against his lips when they break apart to breathe. "I thought I somehow offended you, thought you were disgusted by what you saw. I was so fucking worried. You just ran. You left." The _me_ and _again_ went unspoken, but they still hit Daryl kind of hard. Rick was no delicate flower, wasn't in need of protection. The former cop could handle physical and emotional pain pretty well, except for when there was nothing he could do to stop what was hurting him or their group. Then he would worry himself sick about everything, which apparently happend in the time Daryl let Aaron berate him.

Daryl wraps his arms around Rick, holding him close. "Would never leave you, you know that" he mumbles into the soft skin of Rick's throat, lips brushing over his fluttering pulse point.

"You don't understand. I was so desperate, I forced Eric to tell me what was going on with you. And fuck, he thought I looked so pathetic he just told me. Didn't even need to threat him with bodily harm from Michonne or Carol."

They kiss each other, again and again, the exchange of saliva becoming more heated. Daryl lets his hands roam across Rick's lower back, down to his ass, squeezing the supple flesh. Rick lets lose a loud moan, pushing the archer against the closed door, kissing him with bruising force. Maybe it's the lack of oxygen, maybe it's something else, but Daryl can't wait any longer. His dick is so hard in his trousers it might tear them apart, so he pushes his aching cock flush against Rick's . They groan in unison, Rick biting at his chin and jaw, hastily unfastening their belts. With one swift move, Rick is on his knees, dragging Daryl's jeans down, freeing the throbbing lenght from its prison.

He doesn't dare to look at Rick, too afraid he'll come all over the face of his former leader. He feels those plump lips caressing his shaft, parting to nip at the sensitive skin between cock and balls. Rick licks along the thick veins, up to the blunt, leaking tip of Daryl's erection, blowing air over the red, glistening skin. He moans as Rick's tongue dips into his slit, feels Rick close his mouth around him to suckle lightly, only to nearly scream when Rick swallows him almost completly hot, moist heat surrounding him. It's obvious that Rick knows how to give head and Daryl wonders who the lucky bastards were Rick practiced on. He hopes Shane wasn't one of them.

And fuck him, but this just feels amazing. Not just the kisses, the grinding, or the blow job, but the knowledge that Rick wants him. That Rick was just as clueless and dumb  about this thing between them. They will do _it_ so often from now, at least two times a day, if Daryl gets any say in this.

Risking a glance, hands pressed against the door, Daryl looks down, watching his cock disappear into Rick's mouth, lips shining with spit and stretched so wide around Daryl, the older man's jaw must hurt. And then Rick looks up, their eyes locking and he twirls his tongue around. The tension building inside his balls reaches its peak and Daryl comes in long, thick spurts, screwing his eyes shut. His whole body buzzes with post orgasmic bliss, knees weak and breath erratic. When he opens his eyes again, he sees Rick on his front, bare ass in the air, balancing his weight on his shoulder with three fingers shoved down his throat. The hunter's dick gives a feeble twitch the moment he realizes what Rick is doing, soaking his fingers with Daryl's come.

"Fuck" he groans at the sight of Rick, parting his own ass cheeks to rub his come drenched fingers against his blinking hole. Then he plunges them in, pumps in and out a few times, until he spreads them, offering Daryl the view of his life. Flushed, tight, wet walls, dripping with his semen.

"Shit, I knew you would look pretty with my come in you!" snarls Daryl, kneeling behind Rick to tease the other mans stretched rim, pushing two of his finger alongside Rick's, who groans and moans like a twenty dollar whore. His eyes are half lidded, face red and mouth drooling spit. The hand not working himself open together with Daryls fingers scratches across the wooden floor, leaving faint marks on the dusty ground.

"Wish I could fuck you with my cock...ram myself so hard into that tight hole of yours until you can't scream no more...I would fill you with loads of my cum, so much that you can't even walk without it leaking out of you..." Oh, if Merle could here him now, he would be so proud of him. That thought is quite disturbing, but the reaction his words draw from Rick is worth the mental scarring Daryl has to relive. The couch man, the couch.

Rick's moans grow louder. He fucks himself on their joined digits faster with each passing second, begging for more. And Daryl gives him more, stuffs another one into that tight heat, the needy hole swallowing the girth of so many fingers with ease. He pushes and pulls, drags the tips of his digits around a bit, until Rick arches his back when he finds his prostate. The archer keeps his fingers spread, rubbing over Rick's sensitive spot over and over again. Daryl can feel Rick's impending climax, can feel every twitch around his skin.

Rick mewls and comes, his walls trying to clench shut around Daryl's thick, spread fingers, leaving his hole gaping open. Never in all his life has Daryl seen something as erotic as his own come being pushed out by the spasming muscles of Rick's abused channel. He loves the obsence squelching noise and the way Rick groans when Daryl keeps rubbing his sweet spot.

And then Carl opens the door, screams so loud every human in all of Virginia, alive or undead, hears him and slams the door shut.

"Awwwww man" he groans as Rick pulls off of their fingers so fast he falls over.

_**Fuck.His.Life.** _


End file.
